Page 40 of Claimed
I return to the penthouse still under the cover of darkness. But it doesn’t matter. The entire team is in the main room and they rush the door as soon as I alight on the balcony. I pause in place, waiting for them to scream. To yell.
Hell, to rush me and lock me down.
Ruin slows several feet away beyond the open doorway, his black eyes careful. Watchful. I look at him.
Though there is still resentment inside me, I feel hollow now. Empty. Like Lilah’s words scooped out everything in my chest and now there is just an open space that needs to be filled. But the anger is not as malicious. Not as volatile.
Tanner, Gage, and Horan slip past him, their massive frames circling like they mean to cut me off from the rail.
I watch the angel. There is no limp, no wince. His blood is powerful though. Even fallen he heals damn fast.
“I’m not going to jump again,” I say into their silence. Every single damn one of them flinches. I stare. No one says a damn word, but there is almost a weariness that hangs over the balcony. Sighing, I hold a hand up. “I want a drink. Can I have one before you lay into me?”
Silence.
Taking it as acquiescence, I brush past them and head straight for the bar. I pick up a tumbler, fill it with scotch, and down it in one large swallow.
“You’ve had a drink. Now I should fucking kick your ass,” Ruin barks. “I want to.”
I peer over my shoulder at him, glass in hand.
“You scared the hell out of us, Caine,” Tanner adds, his silver eyes luminous with his beast.
“You almost sound like you care.” I mean for it to come out catty, but there is a question at the end I can’t hide. One that I don’t know why I need to anymore. I pour another large measure and stopper the decanter before turning around.
“You’re part of this fucking team, idiot,” Ruin says, his angry eyes tracking over me. “You know that.”
“Do I?”
They stop moving. Hells, they stop breathing.
“Are you serious, right now?” Ruin’s voice is measured. “Do you honestly not get it?”
“Oh I get a lot of things,” I murmur, swirling the liquor in my glass. “I get that I’m a demon. I get that Horan wants to run me through with his sword every damn minute he is in the room with me. I get that you don’t like me around Lilah because you know I love her. And I know the rest of you keep me only close enough to watch me. That sound about right?”
“You love her?”
I look at Ruin. “Yes.”
His jaw works, and for a moment I wonder if he really knew. “For how long?”
I shrug. “Months. Maybe since she came to Lock Lake. Or when she slapped me in the tunnel.”
“Does she know?”
“Why? You worried she’ll leave you?” The words are callous. Cold. But my anger is building again, needing an outlet. A fight.
He straightens his shoulders and pries up his sleeve, flashing the black marks on his skin. Claiming marks. “No. She’s my consort, Caine. You know the men of my race only get these marks if our partners are truly our other halves. You know that.”
I take a sip of the scotch and stare into the amber fluid. “I know she loves you. And I get it now.”
“Get what?” he asks.
“Why.”
Silence.
I finally pry my eyes away from the glass. “Why would she ever want me, when she has you?” I stalk toward them. “I’m no one. The bastard son of Astaroth’s lead general and the bitch he raped.”
